


porcelain.

by luna_e_stelle



Series: stormy weather [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Hurt Peter, Hurt/Comfort, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, he's trying his best tho, i really love pepper, peter's a nervous wreck at the start lol, she isn't in this a lot but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 13:24:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18499867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luna_e_stelle/pseuds/luna_e_stelle
Summary: Peter swallowed and took a shaky breath in. He hoped that no one was interested in some scrawny teen who had somehow found himself sitting next to Tony Stark in some fancy conference for reasons he wasn’t quite sure of.---Tony takes Peter to a conference.It doesn't end well.





	porcelain.

Peter’s hands were sweaty. Really sweaty. It was kind of gross, and he wiped them on his pants. And then regret ran through him, because the suit that he was wearing was _Armani_ and cost more than the rent for his and May’s apartment.

 

He saw Pepper, in a conversation with a short, balding man and an even shorter woman, and she briefly glanced over. He gave her a small wave and she smiled at him and returned it, before turning back.

 

"Hanging in there, kid?" Peter turned to see Tony smirking at him, looking so at ease that it seemed he was going to order coffee or something, and not be on stage at a conference with over three-hundred people.

 

"Oh, yeah, it’s — it’s, uh… I’m hanging." Peter let out a breath. "Onto my will to live. It’s, uh, hanging by a thread right now."

 

Tony snorted, clapped him on the shoulder, and his heart slowed, just a bit. "You’re gonna do fine. Just sit there with your big puppy-dog eyes and look like you’re paying attention."

 

"Like you do?" He asked, raising an eyebrow and tapping his fingers on his leg.

 

"Exactly." Tony slipped on a pair of red-tinted sunglasses.

 

And then a backstage technician was calling them to the side entry of the stage and Peter’s heart jumped into his throat and tremors ran through his hands. He had fought psychopaths and murderers and even a dude dressed up as a bird, but right now, going out onto that stage was going to be the single, most terrifying thing he had ever done.

 

A hand gently guided him to where the executives and the heads of divisions were standing and waiting, all looking bored or going over notes on their phones. A woman was already on stage, giving an introduction, and he couldn’t see the crowd from where he was standing, thankfully. If he could, he might’ve just climbed up the wall and gone into hiding with his fellow spiders.

 

"Kid." Tony waited until Peter turned to face him, and looked at him over the rims of the glasses. "I wouldn’t have asked you to do this if I thought you couldn’t."

 

Peter chewed his lip. "What if they ask me a question? I’m like the first proper intern for the company and, oh, God, what if I say something really nerdy, Mister Stark? Like, what if I say a Star Wars reference and no one gets it? What if someone _does_ get it, Mister Stark? And —"

 

The utter horror in his voice must have been amusing to Tony, cause he hid a snicker with a cough. Peter glared at him.

 

"Mister Stark, this is serious," he said, and it definitely wasn’t a whine.

 

"I know, Pete, I know." Tony held up his hands, still smirking. "But you’re not going to screw up. If you do, no one’s gonna give a shit. Just flash ‘em that innocent little smile you give me when you know you’ve done something wrong. They’ll be eating out of your hand."

 

An applause broke out from the audience and he sucked in a breath. Tony squeezed his shoulder and the technician motioned for them to move, and as Peter passed him onto stage, the hairs on his arms stood straight and his neck tingled and he was suddenly in front of three-hundred people.

 

Miraculously, he made his feet move. Even more miraculously, he didn’t fall over, and he sat down in-between Tony and the head of the economics department, Caleb Robinson, who didn’t look too pleased to be pushed to the side by a teenager.

 

There was a microphone in front of him, and connected to that was a plaque facing the audience that he knew said: _P. Parker, Intern_. Beyond that, were rows upon rows of seats, filled to the brim with reporters and businesspeople and stock holders. Down the middle, there was a long line of people waiting to ask questions. And they were all looking at Peter. Well, in his direction, anyway.

 

His fingers tapped against the long, white table. And then he clasped his hands together, moved in his seat slightly. Refused to glance back at Tony, whose amused gaze was on him.

 

"Thank you all for attending this annual economics conference," Pepper greeted, seated on the other side of Tony. Her voice was cool and calm and collected, her posture straight. "We’re starting today off with a brief report from the head of resources, Caroline Marksmine."

 

"Thanks, Pepper." Peter couldn’t see Caroline, and as she spoke, he found he wasn’t quite sure what to do. Every minuscule move felt awkward and attention-grabbing, and he was almost certain that his microphone had to be picking up his heartbeat, with how hard it was hammering.

 

He looked at Tony briefly. Tony’s arm was folded on his chair so that his body was angled towards Peter. He was scrolling through his phone, but then slipped it back into his pocket and looked out at the crowd with a cool gaze.

 

Peter tried to relax. No one was looking at him, except Tony, who caught his eye and winked. He caught himself before he could roll his eyes.

 

An applause from the crowd made him jump, and he snapped back to facing the front. It died down quickly.

 

"Moving on to our first questions."

 

Peter swallowed and took a shaky breath in. He hoped that no one was interested in some scrawny teen who had somehow found himself sitting next to Tony Stark in some fancy conference for reasons he wasn’t quite sure of.

 

"Melissa McCard, Daily Bugle," a reporter introduced herself as. "We were hoping that someone could either confirm or deny the rumours that a large sum of the company’s funds has been used up in the upgrading of the Iron Man suits."

 

The crowd broke out into murmurs and Tony let out a long sigh.

 

"Somehow you people always manage to turn these things into crap about Iron Man," Tony said, raising an eyebrow. "And I thought that everyone had gotten it through their thick heads that I’m a billionaire… meaning, I don’t need to take money out of my company to build them, when I can just use _my own_ money."

 

"What Tony means," Pepper admonished. "Is that Iron Man and Stark Industries remain seperate entities. He does not use the company’s funds for his personal endeavours."

 

Tony snorted. The questions moved on, and Peter found himself relaxing slightly. They were boring, but he listened and payed attention as the executives spoke, and almost felt like he was in the crowd, rather than in front of it.

 

"What hasn’t been disclosed," a man said from the question podium. "Are the cost of starting up an internship program. Neither have the requirements for this program or the benefits."

 

"Not really a question," remarked Tony. "And the cost are whatever I say they are."

 

Three-hundred sets of eyes were looking in Peter’s direction. Heat rose to his cheeks.

 

"The internship program is still in early days," Pepper said. "And I believe Tony chose Peter because of his outstanding schooling records. As for the benefits, what do you say, Peter?"

 

His eyes widened in alarm, snapping to Tony. He just nodded encouragingly, and Peter swallowed and clenched his hands together so hard that it hurt.

 

"Well, uh…" Peter looked quickly at Tony again, and Tony was looking at him, giving him his undivided attention. "Mister Stark lets me work in his lab. I, uh, have a workspace there, and I —I’m allowed to work on some — personal projects. If I need something, he, um, funds it."

 

He rubbed the back of his neck, which was suddenly prickling, and nervously twisted his hands. "But mostly we work on new tech, for — for the company. It’s, uh, pretty cool, and… and it’s put me ahead in a lot of my classes. I'll be able to get into some really good colleges."

 

When he looked over, Pepper was smiling softly at him. "Thank you, Peter. I think that sums it up very well. Next question?"

 

Peter’s eyes slid over a seat, and Tony met his half-stunned look and gave him a thumbs up. He grinned and let out a breath.

 

But then, every muscle in his body tensed and his neck prickled and something was about to happen. The same technician that ushered them onto stage was staring at Tony from the wings, unmoving, unblinking. Just staring. He wore a black vest with pockets that were full. Peter tried to remember how to breathe.

 

"Call the suit." He leaned into Tony and said it so quietly that he could barely hear it himself.

 

"What?" Tony whispered back, eyebrows furrowed.

 

"Just — trust me." The note of panic in his voice made something in Tony’s eyes harden, and he pressed a button on his watch, his whole body tensing, ready to fight.

 

And the world focused around Peter so that he could hear his own heartbeat, so that it turned slow and sluggish and scary. His mind screamed, instinct took over, and he might have shouted for everyone to get down, to run, and he leaped from his chair and pushed Tony and Pepper to the ground.

 

The explosion, he remembered, was all heat and noise. It burst his eardrums and made his skin melt and the ground shake underneath him. Fire seared his back, metal and blood and burning filled the air.

 

It was so dark, once the noise had gone. Everything black and silent. He felt like he were floating, through a gentle haze of complete nothingness. Smoke was the first scent he could smell, mixed with blood. His back was throbbing, slowly becoming more and more painful as the seconds ticked by. Everything hurt, actually; sharp stabs of pain that he was becoming more aware of.

 

His eyes slid open without him realising, and he was staring at the unseeing eyes of Caleb Robinson, laying at an awkward angle, only a few metres away. Half of the man’s face was disfigured and burnt, all black and charcoaled. Ash was falling from the sky like snowflakes.

 

Someone was holding his head up in one hand, their other hand on his cheek, cupping his face, turning him so he was looking up. Tony was the one holding him, his mouth forming soundless words. Tony had soot on his face, a scratch on his forehead. His expensive suit was ripped and torn, and Peter grabbed it in a weak grip. It was silk.

 

Tony’s hand tightened on his face. It didn’t hurt, but Peter blinked slowly and looked up at him with furrowed eyebrows. Nothing was coming from his mouth, even if it was moving.

 

Peter glanced around, trying to see past Tony’s shoulder. There were small fires surrounding them, smoke rising in the air. Walls were collapsed and shrapnel scattered. He couldn’t hear the fire, he realised.

 

"Tony?" He hadn’t let go of the shirt, he realised, too. "That was — I can’t —"

 

There was a small, subtle ringing sound in his ears, and he supposed he should have been relieved. Ringing meant sound, and he could hear the sound. It was better than nothing.

 

He blinked again, trying to clear his thoughts. Tony looked scared, his mouth repeating the same soundless word again and again. _Peter_.

 

"I can’t… I can’t hear." Saying the words made his heart thump. Panic shot down his spine. "Mister Stark? I can’t hear you. I can’t — I don’t —"

 

Peter tried to scramble up, but his arms collapsed when he did, so he curled into Tony instead, squeezed his eyes shut and felt Tony’s rapid heartbeat. A hand ran through his hair, an arm went around him.

 

Everything disappeared for a moment, and he let himself sink.

 

But the hands were suddenly tugging him up gently, making him stand. The world spun when he got on his feet. He grabbed onto Tony, blinked heavily. Pepper was standing next to him, scratches on her face, too, and she briefly cupped Peter’s face, making sure he was okay, he thought. She said something to Tony, and he nodded, and she kissed his cheek and walked off briskly, every bit a CEO.

 

As he was lead out, away from the smoke and out of an emergency exit, into the crisp air, Peter thought about the suit he was wearing. It was so expensive and Tony had bought it for him especially for the conference. He didn’t have to look at himself to know that it was ruined.

 

The ringing was getting louder, more prominent, and Tony helped him sit down against a wall on the grass. The paramedic that came over looked kind but fierce, with the same look in her eyes that Tony had gotten moments before the explosion.

 

He followed her finger with his eyes, let her shine her torch in them and in his ears, let Tony talk for him. He grabbed Tony’s hand when she was listening to his breathing.

 

"I can…" Peter tried to form the words around his tongue. "There’s ringing."

 

The paramedic said something to Tony. He looked relieved. She ran off to help more people.

 

Tony’s thumb was moving back and forth on his hand, and they sat for a while, just breathing. He didn’t have his sunglasses on, either, and Peter wondered if he’d taken them off or they were blown off in the explosion.

 

Tony looked at his phone, not cracked and still working, and helped Peter up, mouth moving meaninglessly. Happy was there, standing outside his black car, face severe and worried, even if he was trying to hide it. He said something. Tony replied. Peter leaned on him more, legs shaking.

 

When he was helped into the back of the car, he curled into Tony’s side without a second thought. Tony didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around him, and he buried his head in Tony’s shoulder, watched out the window as the car slowly started moving away from the fire and ash and smoke.

 

His eyes were drooping, but he knew that he couldn’t sleep, had had enough head injuries to know that he wasn’t allowed. He was imagining Tony’s voice in his head, warning him not to close his eyes, without trying.

 

It wasn’t until they were off the highway, five minutes away from the compound, that sound slowly trickled back in. An ABBA song was softly playing on the radio, the car nearly silent, but it was still there.

 

Peter moved his head so he was looking up at Tony. Tony was staring out the window, eyes tired and tense and deep in thought. Peter poked him until he looked down.

 

"You better not have been saying anything bad about me," Peter said quietly, voice scratchy and hoarse. "It’s rude to talk behind peoples’ backs, ‘specially when they can’t hear."

 

Tony looked so tired, but he lit up and smiled a bit. His voice was quiet, too. "It wasn’t behind your back, kiddo. It was right in front of you."

 

He let his head fall back onto Tony’s shoulder.

 

**Author's Note:**

> ok it's like 3 am so im gonna edit tomorrow lol
> 
> tysm for reading !!
> 
> also,, the comments on my last story actually made me so close to tears ( happy tears lol), cause i just love writing more than anything and then i find out that people actually *like* my writing ,,,, it just made me so emotional lol so thank you all again <33


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